


Forty Candles

by viceversa



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Cutesy, Flirting, Fluff, John Hughes Refrences, M/M, Making Out, Poor Lassie, Sixteen candles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: “Oh my God! Lassie! This is Sixteen Candles! You’re Molly Ringwald! I’m Anthony Michael Hall! Oh, God, I’m so not a Farmer Ted type!”“Spencer, what the hell are you on about!”“Oh, come on man! Sixteen Candles? A John Hughes masterpiece? Girl’s whole family forgets her sixteenth birthday?”
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 34
Kudos: 174





	Forty Candles

**Author's Note:**

> thank you @otava for beta reading!
> 
> If you haven’t seen Sixteen Candles, I recommend you watch this clip before reading <3  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0IJ1jZ-Olo (the last scene of the movie)

Shawn was on a personal roll. He was flying solo all day because Gus had to “Actually go to work, Shawn,” and it was awesome. Every joke, every “vision”, every interaction he had all day was great, and it made him feel great too. The smoothie man nearly wept with joy at his presence, the woman at the sunglasses hut blushed at his harmless flirting, and the notoriously grumpy pigeon mafia that hung out around the office left him alone. 

This was good, because sometimes his self-ness went far underappreciated in the eye of the general public. 

To wrap up the good - no, _great_ day he’d had, Shawn decided to stop by the station and hunt for a juicy case, or at least have a pass at the evening donut run. A man’s gotta eat, and if what he eats is both free and full of delicious flavor, then that man is a winner.

And if that also meant arriving near the end of a certain tall, dark, and handsome head detective’s shift, then all the better. 

On the motorcycle ride there, Shawn tried to envision leaving with Lassie, arm in arm, skipping home to have hot, sweet man-sex. Guru Jason, who ran the taco stand near the beach, had told him the importance of moodboarding and thinking positively to achieve one’s dreams. That’s how Jason himself ended up inheriting a taco stand. Apparently.

\---

But Shawn did not arrive to a joyous finale worthy of his excellent day about town - not at all. The station was quiet… too quiet. The officer at the front desk was tense. The usually rowdy junior officers stepped quickly and quietly. The tired detectives were typing away and disappearing as quickly as they could. 

There was fear in the air, and that meant only one thing. 

Lassiepants was in a bad, bad mood. 

The Head Detective had thrown his share of tantrums. Shawn had heard lore of them, as well as witnessed a few here and there. One such tale from long ago said that Lassie had brought the mood down in the station for a whole week - so far that even hardened criminals were weeping in their cells. Coincidentally, that was also the week he and his then-wife separated for the first time. 

A quiet word to McNab confirmed Shawn’s suspicions. 

“He’s been like this since lunch. Snappy, short with people like usual. But he’s got a mean edge to it all, Shawn.” Buzz looked sad at the thought. “He’s hurting people’s feelings. He… he called me the largest walking single cell organism today. I don’t even know what that means!”

Shawn winced in sympathy. “The spirits have been warning me away all day for that very reason, Buzzy my man. There’s some serious bad mojo around here - but I’m on it.” 

“Thank you Shawn. Good luck!”

Shawn slapped poor Buzz on the back and made his way into the depths of a quiet bullpen. If Lassie was really that upset, it meant something personal had gone wrong with him. 

Hmm… Lassie’s personal life. That was a scary place to ponder, especially since Shawn was trying to work his way into it, but he took one for the team and thought back to the last few times he’d seen Lassie, just a few days prior. 

His suits had all been pressed and normal, his haircut the same as always, the bags under his eyes and tension in his face had been steady. Whatever had happened was a recent thing, and it had to be big, at least to him. 

Lassie’s list of emotional triggers was short and weird. It could be some resurgence of the ex-wife, but that had been put to bed months ago so Shawn ruled it unlikely. His job - there was nothing more important to him, but as far as Shawn had heard there had been no major changes good or bad. His family? Possible. The squirrels in his neighborhood unionizing and actively revolting? Just as possible.

Maybe he saw a stray snowglobe? Maybe he skipped breakfast and his blood sugar was low? _Maybe Shawn could sweeten up his night?_

Lassie was a mystery wrapped in a sexy enigma. This could be Shawn’s chance to woo Lassie out of the dark cloud and into having dinner with him, followed by drinks, followed by above stated hot man-sex. 

There was hope, right?

He needed more intel before making a move. The Chief’s office was dark, but Jules was still at her desk, working just as quickly and quietly as the rest of the station. It must be even worse than he thought if she was so affected too. Shawn spied Lassie lurking near a file cabinet on the other side of the station, so he quickly spy-walked his way to Jules’ desk. 

“Shawn!” she half-whispered, looking wildly around for her partner as she motioned him down. “This is not a good time!”

“I know, Jules. The spirits have nearly abandoned this place all together with all the bad mojo in the air - what’s got Lassie so upset?”

Juliet relaxed when she saw Lassiter walk down the hallway and around the corner. The whole bullpen seemed to take a collective breath. 

“No one knows,” she replied. “He was fine this morning? But he’s just gotten worse all day - I can hardly keep track, and the Chief had the day off, and we’ve been so busy with paperwork and the annual review coming up next week. I’m almost done, but it’s been brutal.”

Shawn tucked his head and thought about that. Could it just be work stress? “How bad is he?”

“Shawn, go home. You messing with him is only going to make it worse, or make you very arrested.”

“No can do, Jules. It is my destiny to solve this tonight! My entire day has led me down a path of righteousness, and now I get to conquer the beast.”

Juliet was already shaking her head before Shawn finished speaking. “Whatever, I can’t stop you. Just… good luck. And don’t be surprised if he shoots you.”

Shawn nodded solemnly and stood, dramatically walking toward the hallway Lassie disappeared from, waving his thanks to an invisible crowd of admirers as he went. 

This had always been the issue that kept Lassie so far from Shawn’s flirting. The wall around Lassie’s emotions was tall and thick. If Shawn tried to be nice to him, he was suspicious. If he complimented Lassie on his good looks or smarts, Lassie thought he was being made fun of. Even outright groping and come-ons didn’t work - Lassie just deflected everything that came his way to protect himself.

Tracking down where Lassie disappeared to wasn’t hard. He heard faint, angry grumbling from behind the third door he passed - one of the file rooms. And it wasn’t even the fun one that had weird evidence, just boring paper files from like the seventies. Why would Lassie even need to be in there? 

Shawn opened the door quietly and peeked his head in. He didn’t see Lassie immediately, so he snuck in and closed the door behind him, locking it just for fun. 

A fake psychic can still dream, right?

He crouched down and hid behind a row of files, listening to the grumbling. 

“Shouldn’t even… what does it matter? Who in their… Christ on a pony, Carlton, pull yourself together!”

Lassie was in bad shape, pacing back and forth, occasionally kicking a box that was on the floor. _Yikes_. 

So, instead of making a graceful exit or coming up with any sort of reasonable approach, Shawn gathered the full strength of his awesome, ego-boosting day and jumped out from behind the file boxes, yelling “Lassie!” with jazz hands. 

This, one could say, was not a great move. 

Not if you didn’t want a gun drawn on you by a twitchy, grumpy cop. 

“Whoa, whoa there Eeyore, it’s just me.”

Lassie rolled his eyes and holstered his weapon. “Great. A fantastic end to an already wonderful day.” 

Shawn ignored his tone, but didn’t miss the way he crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. “That’s what I thought! But to my surprise, I was greeted with the world’s saddest police station. Lass… what’s going on buddy?” 

He approached Lassie like one would a cornered tiger, but Lassie didn’t lunge for the throat. Instead he just deflated against the shelves, like all his strings were cut and he was a free pinocchio with nowhere to go. Or whatever. 

Lassie looked… sad. And defeated. And a little ashamed. And Shawn was not having that at _all._

He straightened up in front of Lassie and put on his serious-Shawn voice. “Lassie. Man. Seriously, why the long face?”

“It’s nothing, Spencer. I obviously just ruined everyone’s day. I should just… go.”

Contrary to his words, Lassie didn’t move at all. In fact, he slumped a little lower and stared at the floor, like Shawn conjured Eeyore into Lassie’s body. This was worse than that time he found Lassie blackout drunk at Tom Blair’s.

“Yeah, the mood out there isn’t great Lassieface, but no one knows what’s wrong. Poor Buzz got his feelings hurt and you know how he looks up to you. And Jules is worried!” Shawn took a final step forward and put a gentle hand on Lassie’s shoulder, inwardly rejoicing when he wasn’t shrugged off. 

“Thanks, Shawn. You’ve really brightened my day,” he said flatly.

Shawn squeezed his shoulder, waiting for him to crack. 

Lassie let out a big sigh, resigning himself to his fate, and mumbled something that Shawn didn’t catch. 

“What was that, Lassafrass?”

“It’s my birthday… and no one said anything.”

Shawn gaped at him. Like, full on, jaw dropped gaping. 

“I told you it was stupid!” Lassiter surged up and started pacing again. “I don’t even know why it got to me! I mean, I’ve never cared in the past, but no one even…” 

Shawn snapped out of it. “Ah, Lassie, Lassiter, dude, I can’t believe we didn’t realize!” Poor Lassie, all sad and lonely on his birthday. “That’s our bad, man. That’s totally on us, and you have every right -”

“After O’Hara ruined my life with her surprise party of felons, she got me a card every year. And my mother and Althea usually call, at least. Or Lulu.” Lassie stopped his movement and slumped again. “This year? I know we’re really busy, but… nothing.”

Shawn’s heart broke. He couldn’t imagine everyone forgetting about his own birthday, but he always spends the week before reminding everyone with very specific gift ideas. “I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything either Lassie, that’s like…”

“It’s fine, Spencer. You’ve been doing other things, occupied in your own life.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point! I feel like I struck out here, re: not acknowledging your birthday! That’s flirting 101, Lassie!”

“Wait, that’s _what?”_

Then Shawn froze, feeling a strong sense of deja vu wash over him. He reached out with one hand and smacked Lassie in the chest in astonishment.

“Oh my God! Lassie! This is _Sixteen Candles_!”

“What?” 

“You’re Molly Ringwald! I’m Anthony Michael Hall! Oh, God, I’m _so_ not a Farmer Ted type!”

“Spencer, what the hell are you on about!”

“Oh, come on man! _Sixteen Candles?_ A John Hughes masterpiece? Girl’s whole family forgets her sixteenth birthday?”

If anything, Lassie looked more confused, but Shawn was on a roll and it was his turn to pace.

" _I’m sorry we forgot your birthday, Samantha!_ Wait, does this mean I have to set you up with the boy you really like instead of me? I’d rather not do that. This is not a Ducky situation either! I will not be a John Hughes wacky failed romantic lead turned best friend and approving wingman!”

“You _what_?”

Shawn spun around and asked seriously, “Lassie, can I borrow your underwear for ten minutes?”

“Shawn! Shut _up_!” 

Lassie followed through on his words with actions, which is something Shawn could learn from him. It was a very strong tactic. Only Lassie’s actions in this moment were to pin Shawn against the nearest wall with his hand over Shawn’s mouth. 

It wasn’t Shawn’s least favorite position he’d ever been in - Lassie pressed up against him, arm bracing against his chest, leg in between his own. Face very, very close. Locked room. Heightened emotions and John Huges references. Ya know, the perfect storm for a very sudden, very insistent boner. 

“Ynf cnnd mfph Shnn.”

Lassiter stared at him blankly for half a second, then released the grip he had on Shawn’s face, not moving anything else. “What?”

“You called me Shawn. And we are very, very close right now,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. 

If anything, Lassie looked more confused at the whole situation, but to Shawn’s delight he didn’t back off right away. Even more astonishing, Lassiter seemed to loom a little _closer_. 

“So?” 

It was a challenge. A what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it. Shawn had never, ever been able to resist those. It was how he got into his first fistfight, stole his first pineapple, and done things he wasn’t at all proud of. 

Well. Maybe he was a little proud of them. 

In a natural response to Lassie’s oh-so-obvious dare, Shawn pushed against his hold and closed the distance between their mouths, planting a big smacker right on Lassie’s half-open mouth and pulled back with a grin. 

_Your move, Lassie-face,_ he thought. Or, tried to think. Because before the thought could fully form, he was suddenly covered head to toe by Lassie returning the kiss. 

Shawn’s head went completely blank for a good two seconds. This was worth noting because Shawn’s head was a scary, scary place that never shut up and always had a million things going on and it only took one kiss from Head Detective Cartlon Lassiter to _completely derail him_. 

Luckily, Shawn came back to semi-consciousness just when his body decided it was time to stick his tongue into Lassie’s mouth. He liked being aware of that sensation. 

Lassie’s mouth was hot, and his tongue was just as active as his body, pushing and sliding against Shawn in every way possible. Shawn thought about the locked door to the room and wondered for a second if he was really psychic. 

But if he were, he wouldn’t have been so surprised at the softness of Lassie’s hair as he ran his fingers through it. He wouldn’t have been so astonished at the feeling of having Lassie so _close_ to him, breathing him in, tasting him like he was the best ice cream sundae in the whole world. 

He wouldn’t have been so bamboozled in the brain and so suddenly certain that, oh man, there was no coming back from this. 

The kiss ended slowly, stuttering out to short presses between breaths until Lassie leaned his forehead into Shawn’s in a way that Shawn would demand in the future. 

“This better not be some dumb prank or one-off, Spencer.” Lassiter’s voice was entirely gravelly and sexy, and Shawn jerked against him at the shiver it sent through his body.

Shawn looked up and saw just how dilated Lassiter’s eyes were, how red his lips had gotten. “Happy birthday Lassie,” Shawn breathed, head spinning. 

“Is this just a today thing, because you forgot my birthday? Or because of some movie?” To Lassie’s credit, he didn’t back away from Shawn even as he accused him, lessening the sting a little.

“Oh, please.” Shawn laughed and kissed the side of Lassie’s nose just where it curved slightly because it was _right there to be kissed_ . “Listen, I’ve maybe been a bit heavy handed on the whole flirting thing in the past but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t flirting for _realsies._ ”

Watching Lassie’s face screw up in confusion so close to him was fascinating. All the cute little wrinkles and the way his eyes changed color a little - Shawn had to stop himself from asking him to do it again. He’d remember it vividly anyway.

“What _flirting_?”

The genuine tone to the question derailed Shawn’s first response entirely. “Uh, Lassie. I don’t just grope anyone when I have a vision. Nor do I go around complimenting Buzz for being tall, dark, and handsome.” Shawn punctuated his admission with a smooth hand down Lassie’s side, ending a little too low (or just low enough) on his ass and dragging him even closer.

“I thought you just hated me,” Lassie said in that tone of voice where he wasn’t sure if there was a joke he was supposed to be getting or not. 

“Nope,” Shawn popped, then pulled Lassie back in, this time for a sweeter kiss, a birthday kiss. “I pretty much have it bad for you, Lassie. 

His lips were still tingly from before, and the only solution seemed to be continuing to kiss Lassie in the file room. It was a burden he felt it necessary to bear. Or kiss. Or whatever. 

Kissing Lassie wasn’t at all what he expected. Shawn thought it would be all rough and power-struggle-y and hot, maybe even quickly cut off and never mentioned again. But whatever was going through Lassie’s mind allowed him to kiss gently and with _feeling._ The kind of feeling that had Shawn simultaneously weak at the knees and hornier than he originally believed possible. 

Shawn broke off this time, outwardly aware that if they went much further than this, he’d be dropping trou in a police station. Not that he was entirely against it, but this was Lassie’s birthday! He deserved better than a quickie at work. 

“What do you wanna do, Lassie?” Shawn moved to kiss at Lassie’s neck, reveling in the feel of his five o’clock shadow, the taste of his skin. “It’s your birthday, you’re off duty, and the weekend starts now,” he said in between kisses. “We can do anything you want.”

Lassiter moved his hands down Shawn’s sides and onto his hips and straightened up, leaving Shawn to stay leaned against the wall and looking up at him. 

And what a sight that was. Lassie’s face was flushed, his hair mussed, his suit in utter disarray. Shawn could even see his lips starting to puff from just the little attention they’d gotten. Shawn wondered what they would look like later, with more attention. He hoped to find out. 

“You really want to do that? Uh.” Lassie cleared his throat. “This?”

“I thought I’d made myself _very_ clear here, but obviously not. Lassie, we just started a thing between us. A sexy thing, with lots of kissing and touching inappropriately and also _very_ appropriately, but right now it is your birthday, which everyone forgot, and I’m gonna make it up to you. Sound good?”

“Uh. Yeah, Spencer. Sounds good.”

Shawn patted Lassie’s hip approvingly. “Excellent. Now. What’s on the agenda for tonight? Impromptu party at tom blairs? Rager at the psych office? Bar crawl? Shooting range? Laser tag?”

All the energy that Shawn had worked up in Lassie went away, and suddenly Eeyore Lassie was back, and he looked genuinely exhausted. 

“I just want to go home.” 

It was the quiet, open way he said it that cemented Shawn’s self-promotion as Lassie’s birthday coordinator and all around feelings guardian. 

“Quiet evening in?”

Lassie nodded. 

“With _me_ for company?” he emphasized.

Lassie hesitated slightly, then nodded. 

“Then let’s do that. I’ll meet you at your house in one hour, birthday boy!” Shawn launched up and gave Lassie one last big kiss on the lips and joyfully pranced out of the room, leaving Lassie to hopefully straighten himself out before leaving after him. 

Shawn didn’t need to smooth out his already rumpled appearance much, and he was fairly sure he looked near normal when he walked back through the bullpen. Luckily, Jules had already gone home, and he didn’t see anyone he needed to stop and chat with. 

He had errands to run. 

\---

Shawn rode his motorcycle to the store and had to make another stop on the way to Lassie’s house, arriving just a little after the hour he’d promised because he spent fifteen minutes figuring out how to carefully attach a delicate box to the back of his motorcycle without crushing it. 

Lassie’s car was in the driveway and the light was on in the living room, though not on the porch. That didn’t bode particularly well, but Shawn hopped off and took the box and his full backpack to the door. 

With his hands full, Shawn considered ringing the bell with his elbow but decided that loudly kicking the door and yelling was the more festive option. 

“Lassie! I’m here! Time to party!”

The door opened before Shawn could launch into his rendition of _Birthday Song_ , but they’d get to that later. 

Lassie looked surprised that he showed up, but Shawn made his way inside anyway, setting down his haul on the kitchen table. Lassie shut the door and followed him, and Shawn thought it was nice to be in Lassie’s house not at gunpoint. Or not alone, stealing peanut butter. 

Shawn reached into his backpack and brought out his gifts. “I have _Sixteen Candles_ , beer, and a mystery box that will become necessary once we watch the movie. Chinese food is on the way and should be here in…” he checked his wrist, that coincidentally didn’t have a watch on it, “fifteen minutes.”

Lassiter gaped at him, then recovered. “Okay.”

“Wanna make out like teenagers ‘til the food gets here?”

Lassie didn’t bother responding. Shawn could tell that he had decided to go with the flow on this one, to let go and enjoy the evening. How could he tell that? It had something to do with the way he was tackled into the couch. 

Shawn was fine with going with this plan too. 

Lassie’s lips were soft and insistent against his, and his hips, while not as soft were just as insistent. Shawn thought that this was the best birthday ever, and it wasn’t even his own. 

Soon enough, too soon really, the doorbell rang. Shawn had never resented a food delivery before this one. 

Lassie broke off and stood up, panting lightly as he tried to fix his clothes and hair, but it was hopeless. He was flushed all over, the picture of someone who necked on the couch before dinner. 

Shawn took pity on him and went to get the food. He didn’t care about his own appearance, and he was planning on paying for Lassie’s birthday dinner anyway.

\---

A good half hour into the film, Shawn felt Lassie’s eyes on him. 

“Yes, Lassieface?” he asked with his eyes still on the screen, shoveling the rest of his dinner in his mouth. 

Lassie waited a beat before he answered. “This is a weird movie, Spencer. And surprisingly racist.”

“Yeah I usually try to ignore that part and focus on the important stuff.”

“Which is?”

Shawn tore his eyes away from the drama and locked in with Lassie. It hit him again that he was in Lassie’s house, amicably, and having made out with the man. And that he could probably lean over and kiss him now… But he needed to make his point. 

“ _Sixteen Candles_ is important. It’s a movie about feeling left out and forgotten by the people closest to you on an important day, but in reality it’s not the end of the world. People do care and love you and want to be around you, even if they forget about your birthday, or are distracted by a big wedding. It’s life lessons, Lassie. What Hughes is all about.”

Shawn put down his empty food container and scooched closer to Lassie. 

“You get all of that from a teenage angst movie?”

Shawn would’ve taken offense if Lassie hadn’t put up an eyebrow cutely. “Yes. Now shut up and watch to the end, birthday boy. You’re the one with the life parallels.”

Lassie rolled his eyes, but he shifted his attention back to the TV and slung his arm over Shawn’s shoulders, which made him melt into Lassie’s side. 

As the famous kiss scene cut to the credits, Shawn sat up. “Now, time for something I’ve always wanted to do!” He sprang from the couch and went to the dining table before Lassie could speak. 

Shawn opened the box he’d brought with him and carefully pulled out a small, round cake covered in pink and white frosting and put it in the middle of the table, placing two forks nearby. He heard Lassie turn off the TV, so he quickly cleared the rest of the table, shut off the main lights, and pulled out a lighter and a single candle from the grocery bag. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Lassie walked in and crossed his arms, taking in the sight of Shawn delicately lighting the candle. 

Shawn turned and dramatically spread his arms. “Ta-da! Get up there, Samantha.”

“Are you even sure if this table will hold our weight?”

Shawn had already climbed up and crossed his legs, feeling mildly insane but exhilarated. “Come on up, Lassie! The weather’s fine!”

Lassie sighed and made his way up onto the table, crossing his legs gracefully so close to the cake and candle. 

Shawn made sure he was settled in and reached over to take one of his hands, just because he could. Lassie surprised him by twining their fingers together.

“Happy Birthday Lassie. Make a wish.” Shawn smiled wide, silently goading Lassie to answer with the line from the movie. 

With a small smirk, he did. “It already came true.”

Shawn could hear the ending music in his head as they both leaned forward over the cake and kissed. He got in one nibble to Lassie’s bottom lip before he moved back.

Lassie blew out the single candle and stared at the cake for a second. “This is so dumb, Shawn,” he said, but Shawn could hear the happiness in his voice. 

“I’m having fun too.” 

He handed Lassie a fork and they dug in, not bothering to slice the small cake between them. It was a little out of order, but Shawn was pretty sure he’d be getting his hands on Lassie’s underwear that night. 


End file.
